Pieces of War
by distorted-me
Summary: One year gone. So much can change in just one year. But no amount of passing time can bring back what we have lost. Friends. Family. Innocence. All forever taken from us. What are we to do? They say time can heal all wounds. Time heals nothing. We have bid our time and one year later our wounds are still as fresh as the day we were injured. Yet here we are. ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** **I have no idea where this story came from. I just started writing based on some quotes I had jotted down in my book and here we are. I hope you enjoy.**

 **SUMMARY:** War never happens all at once. It comes slowly. In pieces. There are several components to war, and unfortunately none of them are pretty, but as it is with each great play, each act must be presented, before the curtain falls.

* * *

 **Time**

One year gone. So much can change in just one year. But no amount of passing time can bring back what we have lost. Friends. Family. Innocence. All forever taken from us. What are we to do? They say time can heal all wounds. Whoever 'they' are…they lie. Time heals nothing. We have bid our time and one year later our wounds are still as fresh as the day we were injured. Yet here we are.

Time is however, a teacher. Time has taught us resilience. How to be strong, and how to stay that way. Time has taught us to treasure what we have, and to never take a moment given to us for granted. Time has taught us that life is short. Sometimes painfully so. Time has taught us that no matter how hard we strive for immortality, all we have in the end, is time.

Time is a mother, a lover, a teacher, and a friend. It brings us into this world, and helps us to learn and to grow. It lulls us into complacency and holds us in its warm embrace. It carries us through life in long summer afternoons and quick blinks of the eye. Time is a stranger, a punisher, and a bully. Time strips us of our memories, our lives, and all that we hold dear. We go to bed a carefree child and wake up a world weary warrior. We watch our parents grow old, and our friends grow sick, and in the end all those around us slowly die. We age with grace as our ears grow quiet, and our eyes grow dim, and each day it becomes harder and harder to get out of bed until one day we don't, and people say ' _it was just their time'._

But who is time, to say that 'it is time'? Is time fate? Destiny? Some unknown deity in charge of our universe? And who, pray tell, invented this 'time'? Who decided that all things living must eventually come to an end, and why is it that some have centuries while others have only moments? It seems to me that time is a fickle thing, ever changing in its rule over man.

I take comfort then that time no longer has a hold over you. You are free to be whatever, wherever, you are. Free from pain, and sorrow, and suffering. Free from the trivial matters of us mere mortals. But time still holds us in its vindicitive grasp. One year later and the pain of loosing you is just as raw as the moment we realized you were gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Death**

 _Do not stand at my grave and weep,_

 _I am not there. I do not sleep._

 _I am a thousand winds that blow._

 _I am the diamond glints on snow._

 _I am the sunlight on ripened grain._

 _I am the gentle autumn rain._

 _When you awaken in the morning's hush,_

 _I am the swift uplifting rush,_

 _Of quiet birds in circled flight._

 _I am the soft stars that shine at night._

 _Do not stand at my grave and cry;_

 _I am not there. I did not die._

 ** _-'Don't' by Mary Elizabeth Frye_**

 **Harry James Potter**

 **31st July, 1981- 2nd May, 1998**

 **'You always shined in times of darkness'**

It was cold. And wet. So unlike this time of year should be. The war was over, and people were celebrating in the streets. There was sunshine and laughter now, though not for him. In that moment life could be no darker; no fuller of despair. All around him people were beginning to have faith in the Resistance's victory, and life was starting anew, and yet here he was, staring at a grave that shouldn't exist and wondering where it all went wrong.

"He's not coming back, Draco."

"He isn't gone."

"Draco…he is gone. We buried him. What more do you need?"

Draco barked out a harsh laugh. "There is no body in that grave Hermione. We all know that. He could be alive somewhere. Maybe he doesn't remember. Maybe he's trapped somewhere and can't get back to us."

Hermione heaved a long sigh as she stared at her…whatever he was. "Draco- You can't do this to yourself. You can't do this to your son! You must accept that he isn't coming back. There were no bodies because of how the wands reacted. You heard what the Aurors said. They didn't find Snake Faces body either. Does that mean that he still lives?"

"No..." It was a whisper...almost covered by the wind, but it was there. Draco's heartbreaking denial that the love of his life was never coming home. Harry Potter was gone, and no matter how hard he wished otherwise, he finally had to admit, that this time was for good.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Confessions**

"Harry's dead."

I picked at the loose thread on my jacket sleeve and bit my lip, unable to face them.

"What?" gasped Hermione.

"How do you know?" demanded Ron.

"Are…are you sure?" sobbed Hermione.

Tears. Disbelief. She had never learned to hide her emotions. I just nodded unwilling to trust my voice. Of course I was sure. How could I not be? The blood on my hoodie was his.

"How. Do. You. Know?" Ron asked again.

I couldn't avoid them any longer. I had been in this room for hours now. I was hungry, and I was cold, though I would be much colder soon.

"Because I killed him," I said.

Stone cold eyes. Stone cold voice. Heart broken into a million pieces.

Hermione stood up with a fire in her eyes that I hadn't seen since third year and slapped me as hard as she could.

"How could you?" she screamed.

I felt my resolve breaking. Could I do this? I wasn't so sure any more. Harry told me it would be okay, that he would see me through this, but how could he? He was…dead.

"Stone cold Draco. You are the Ice Prince of Slytherin addressing your lowly subjects. Make them believe nothing affects you," he had said.

There was a traitor in our ranks and it was my job to sniff the rat out. That traitor was not, I believed, Hermione. But what did I tell her? Not the truth, obviously. Lovers brawl? Jealousy? A hidden secret?

"I won't talk with him here," I said gesturing towards Ron.

"Draco," Hermione began.

"No. This is my confession and I will issue it on my terms. No. Weasels. Allowed."

"Draco, don't be like this! We can help you."

I laughed my cold, cruel laugh.

"Stone cold," I kept repeating in my head.

"You can help me. But not Weaselbee. He can't see two inches in front of his crooked, freckled nose."

Ron looked hurt and I just glared. I never imagined this would be so hard. I guess betrayal hurts once you have friends. It had taken us both time, but eventually we each got over ourselves, and Ron was now one of my closest friends. The thought…the fear...that he had turned on us was almost unbearable.

"Fine, Ferret. 'Mione, I'll be outside." One last glare at me and he was gone.

I turned to Hermione and collected myself. I would go with the cover story we had agreed on. It would explain his sudden disappearances and odd mood swings.

"He was dying anyway," I breathed. "He had cancer. By the time we found it he was too far gone. They gave him six months…that was four months ago. You know how stubborn he is. Was…"

I couldn't fight the tears. No amount of ice could freeze my heart against the pain of his loss, even if he wasn't really gone.

"No!" she insisted.

"He wore a glamour so no one would know. I swear it on my magic. He…he made me promise not to let him suffer. When he started coughing up blood…" I couldn't continue.

The voice in my head, sounding so much like my father, was berating me for my weakness.

"Such a disappointment, Draco. Malfoy's don't cry."

"How—"

"It was quick. Painless. Like falling asleep." Tears were leaking down my face faster than I could wipe them away.

"Draco…the blood…"

I touched my chest where I knew the majority of it would be.

"I couldn't let him die alone!" I sobbed. Damned hormones. "I…I rocked him to sleep. He was choking…I cleaned him up before I left and sealed the flat."

"Draco…"

She was torn and there was my ticket in. I had made my crusade hers without even telling her what we were looking for.

"You know you'll be kissed for this. Mercy killing or not…" she trailed off.

"I know."

What else was there to say? I only hoped the case was solved before my time ran out.

"I need you to buy me time, Granger. Just two months. Then the dementors can have me."

"I can't do that!" she said shaking her head. "You killed Harry! They are making this their number one priority. You'll be lucky to get three weeks!"

"You're smart!" I yelled. "Think of something. They have to give me a trial right? Use that!"

Hermione bit her lip.

"Why do you need time Draco? What are you not telling me?"

"Everything," I thought sadly as yet more tears fell.

"I don't want to die," I whispered instead.

I hadn't told Harry. I couldn't bear the pain it would cause him.

"Draco…"

I reached out for her then.

"Hermione, I need you to promise me something. If not for me, then for Harry. You're the only one I can trust."

I took her hand and stared at it. I couldn't do this. I had to run. To find a way out.

"Draco. You're scaring me."

"Stone cold, My Dragon. Be stone cold," he said to me.

"In Harry's top drawer there is a box. In that box is a key to a vault at Gringotts. I want you to retrieve the key and hide it, and when you are alone I want you to go there and retrieve its contents. Ask for Fanghorn. He will tell you everything."

"Draco what—"

I took her palm and pressed it to my swollen belly just as the baby kicked. I had worn a glamour so no one would know. Especially Harry. Hermione gasped wide eyed.

"Tell him how much his parents loved him. How…how we didn't want to leave him. The Vault will have more than enough to ensure he grows up comfortable. And please, when he is old enough, give him the letter I have left for him. I didn't tell…Harry…I didn't want him to have any regrets."

"Oh, Draco!" Hermione breathed, and then she broke into tears.

I wept for her then. I had, unbeknownst to her, just placed the fate of the entire wizarding world on her shoulders. The tale that Fanghorn had to tell was a fascinating one filled with lies and betrayals; heroes and villains. The letter I had left would be too tempting for Hermione. I knew she would read it as soon as she could get away. Tomorrow, perhaps. While charmed to look like a letter to our son, to Hermione's eyes the letter in our vault would tell her that Harry was in fact alive, but in hiding, and that his continued existence must be kept secret at all costs. It would give her the knowledge that the Order had been betrayed by a member of, or close to, the inner circle, a group that consisted of no more than 20 wizards, and that including her, 9 of the 20 had been cleared. It would not point fingers at any one member, but would encourage constant vigilance in looking for any odd behavior in members of the Order, whose numbers dwindled daily. The miracle that was growing inside of me now just added one more layer of protection to our plan, and I prayed daily that my little family made it through this war alive.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Betrayal**

 _"Weakness compels strength. Betrayal begets blood. This is the law of the Nine Clans." ~Ninja Assassin_

Dumbledore was dead, the Order in shambles, and Voldemort running wild killing everyone who stood in his way. Key members of the Order had been sent into hiding, their deaths faked, and their disappearances smeared across the front page of _The Prophet,_ Voldemort clearly to blame. Harry had set his game of chess and the pawn was now in the other players' domain. Draco, his second in command, has surrendered himself to the Ministry, where he would inform Ron and Hermione, and therefore the rest of the wizarding world, that They Boy Who Lived, was dead, at the hands of his lover no less. He just hoped whatever story Draco went with was a believable one.

Fred and George Weasley (the later having died in a death eater attack some months ago and the former having fled the wizarding world to escape the pain caused by the loss of his twin) were holed up in a workshop on a private island somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle, cranking out various weapons at lightning speed.

Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood (who had been trampled to death by a herd of crumple-horned snorkacks late last year) were fervently studying plants and their uses in various healing and preventative solutions.

Seamus Finnegan (who went and got himself blown up in the Great Battle of Hogwarts) was busy putting several of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes newest products to the test in carefully calculated, but seemingly random attacks on death eaters and Order members alike; each party blaming the other. Professor McGonagall (Merlin rest her soul) had told Seamus that he had a _'particular proclivity for pyrotechnics'_ and he had taken that to heart.

Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott on the other hand were busy being bad, and loving every moment of it. After the Great Battle, having lost most of his Inner Circle, Voldemort looked to the youngest recruits to create a newer, everlasting Inner Circle. Malfoy, Nott, Zabini, Goyle, and Parkinson quickly rose to fill that honor. Parkinson and Zabini for their seductive abilities, Goyle for his muscle, and Malfoy and Nott for their brains. Unfortunately for the Dark Lord, three of his most trusted members were loyal to the other side.

Malfoy assured Voldemort that his relationship with Potter was strictly 'professional'; and that now that he had won Harrys trust he was privy to valuable information in regards to the Order. Information the likes that even Severus Snape had been unable to obtain. And Draco was only too happy to share this 'information', after, of course, it had been twisted into absolute useless bull. Voldemort in his deluded state never did catch on, and thus he allowed Draco free reign so long as his reports remained 'entertaining'.

Zabini could charm water from a rock, when he wasn't busy screwing the first hot thing he came across, and so Lord Voldemort brought him in as an interrogator. Zabini got lots of useful information as well, none of which reached Voldemort in its entirety, and what did always lead his goons in the opposite direction, which in turn led to several lesser death eaters dying a very painful death for their failures.

Not to be outdone, Nott would slip the prisoners out secret passageways and then confound the guards so that no one ever knew how the prisoners were escaping, especially since Theo never used the same route twice. The three often sat and laughed over how stupid the Dark Lord was, and for a while the Light was close to winning for good. Then one day Snake Face introduced a new recruit, known simply as 'Red', who had provided him with invaluable information pertaining to the Resistance, and would, he claimed, if all went to plan, become his new right hand man.

Thirteen Order members and their families died that night. 'Red' became priority level #1 for 'The Clan'. No one ever saw his face, hands, clothes, shoes, or hair. He came in fully cloaked, hood obscuring the totality of his face, and he only spoke to Lord Voldemort himself under a muffliato spell, so no one ever heard his voice. He was tall, well built, and in a position to know too much to be some random wizard. After months of investigation, and the Order being hunted to near extinction, Harry and his eight closest confidants narrowed 'Red' down to one of 11 people. He, they decided, had to be an Order member, either in, or with close ties to the Inner Circle, between 20 and 25, with no familial ties to anyone who had been killed or attacked. Where 'Red' came from, they had no idea, but no one in the order wholly fit the description they came up with. Harry, Draco, and Ron were too closely connected with several of their fallen members. Neville was not now, nor would he ever be, a traitor. Tonks and Remus were in hiding. Kingsley was busy running the Ministry. Hermione and Molly were the wrong gender, and Arthur was too old. The Weasley siblings were all discounted based on how fervently they had all fought for Harry, and no other family was as deeply invested in the Order as the Weasley Clan.

Based on the information they had, The Clan hatched a devious plan to outs the rat. Harry had made a mistake once before when dealing with a traitor, he wasn't willing to make that mistake again.

 ** _"The deepest circle of hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers. This is war. There is no time for a trail before a jury of your peers. There is only you and the one you betrayed, so pray like Hell they wind up dead before they find you. Because they will be your judge, jury, and executioner. And if not, that Honor shall fall to their family and friends, and there is nothing as vindictive as an angry mob out for revenge. They will kill you where you stand, but they will do it slowly, and they will leave your body where it fell to rot and be fed upon by vermin like yourself. You will be publicly labeled a traitor, and struck from your family tree. There will be no grave, and no one will mourn your death lest they be labeled a traitor as well. Pomp and circumstance are reserved for Heroes and innocent bystanders. Not for filth like you."_**

That was the warning that had sounded from every radio station, and jumped off the page of every paper, journal, and magazine. Issued by one Harry James Potter, Order of Merlin, 1st Class, General in Charge of the Order of the Phoenix, War Lord of the Nine Clans. Harry was out for blood, a personal vendetta against one person, and now the entire wizarding world knew.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Confrontation**

 _"The days went by. Weeks. Months. Years. The phone never rang again. She never answered another time. No family number to find her. 15 missed calls. 20 missed calls. 100 missed calls. Silence. Not a word. Just a word to know that she's okay. Her face and her voice became a blurry shadow. Deafness. 25 days in Russia. 47 days in France. 60 days in Sweden. 1024 days in Norway. 2 days in Scotland." **~ANIMUS KEY by EarthtoBeru**_

A famous muggle poet best described life as thus: _'the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry'_. Harry and I had worked on our plan for months, and now it was completely in shambles. The Ministry was in disarray; the public wanted justice, and the Savior of the Wizarding World was gone. Hermione was working herself to death trying to find delays in my case, but it was quickly becoming pointless, and I had resigned myself to the fact that I would be as good as dead before anything of fruition came to pass. Imagine my surprise when late one afternoon just days before my 'sentencing' the entire cellblock went pitch black, and mayhem ensued. When the 'smoke' cleared I was being manhandled by a guard I didn't recognize who was shouting out orders to clear the way and to get those 'God awful sludge piles cleaned up'. It was only later as we were well clear of Azkaban prison that I realized I had just been successfully rescued by none other than my cousin Nymphadora Tonks and the wonderful portable swamps of Fred and George Weasley.

"I don't understand," I managed to choke out.

"Hermione got wind that the dementors were coming after you tonight and managed to get word out to some people underground, yeah? I got my orders via owl post and here we are. I'm to take you to #12 and deposit you into the floo where you will be safely delivered to your new hideout."

"Thank you, Tonks. I didn't…I'm not…" I couldn't continue.

"I know. Tell him Hi for us, yeah? Remus really misses him."

"I will." I smiled as we approached our almost final destination.

Exhaustion must have caught up with me because when I woke up I was in quiet possibly the most comfortable bed I had ever been in. I felt clean, and warm, and somewhere nearby I detected the scent of home…Harry…Harry! I immediately jerked awake and frantically examined my surroundings. I had no clue as to where I was and no memory of how I had gotten there. For all I knew this could be some horrible trap. A part of me wanted to call out to Harry, to see if this was real, but another part of me, fueled by overwhelming fear, wished to stay quiet and still as not to be detected. Taking a deep breath I took a closer look at my surroundings. This was definitely someone's home. It was warmly decorated, and comfortable. This was meant to be a safe place, perhaps a safe house for The Order? There were clean clothes from the flat that Harry and I shared, and I could smell food wafting through the bedroom door. This appeared, from the in suite bathroom, to be the master bedroom, so it was highly likely that Harry was somewhere near. Otherwise I am sure the guest bedroom would have been sufficient for my needs.

My stomach decided to announce that it was time for food and as I touched it, I panicked. It was empty; flat; and sore. My baby! What had happened to my baby? I tried to stand, but pain shot up my legs and through my lower abdomen and I screamed as I fell back onto the bed. I heard footsteps racing up the hall and prayed that my assumptions about my new residence were correct.

"Draco!" He said in a voice filled with concern.

"H-Harry?" I gasped out.

"Draco, you're awake! I was so worried. You came through the floo, and then you blacked out, and you started screaming. I thought you were dying! Are you in pain? The Healer left some potions for you, said she would be back to check on you later. You gave us quiet a scare."

All I could do was stare at him. My Harry. The one person I thought that I would never see again. The angel that had haunted my dreams for 7 long, painful months.

"Draco?"

"I'm fine, Harry. Just a little sore." I paused a bit my lip. Damn nasty habits. "Is-"

"He's perfect, Love. Right on time. Ten fingers, ten toes. Storm grey eyes. Wild black hair. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to have regrets. To sacrifice what we have worked so hard for. I'm so sorry."

"Draco. I love you. Just as I will love our son. And I would let it all go, and flee for our lives, if it meant that my family would be safe. This war, Voldemort…none of it matters. I have the one thing I never thought I would have. And you two are not something I am willing to sacrifice. Ever."

"Can I see him?" I asked and Harry beamed and left the room.

Moments later he returned with a tiny blue bundle and gently sat on the edge of the bed before handing him over. Our son was beautiful. He had my high cheekbones and pointy nose, Harrys almond eyes in my storm grey color, and that damned Potter mess of hair, which made him absolutely perfect in every way.

"What shall we name him?"

"I think that honor should fall to you. After all, you carried him for nine months," said Harry, a look of pure adoration on his face.

"Malfoys have horrible names, just so you know. We are pompous gits through and through."

"I know. So…Papa…what will it be?"

I smiled. I was a father. "I like Hyperion."

Harry scrunched up his face. "Hyperion? So everyone can call him Hype? That's dreadful. I like Scorpius myself. Still very Malfoy."

I snorted. "Yeah, so everyone can call him Scorp?"

Harry and I just shared a look and smiled. This was, quiet possibly, the best fight we had ever had.

"What will his last name be?" Harry asked.

"Malfoy-Potter of course," I said without hesitation, but Harry only shook his head.

"No. Potter-Malfoy. He's more your son than mine. You did all the work, and I had all the fun."

"You're such a git Potter," I sneered.

"Yeah, Malfoy. But I'm your git," he smiled cheekily.

"Scorpius Hyperion Potter-Malfoy," I said.

"I like it," smiled Harry.

"Merlin help him when he has to learn his name," I mused and we both laughed.

Harry and I had three blissfully un-interrupted weeks before all hell broke loose and he was called away to the front lines. I selfishly considered asking him not to go, knowing full well he would stay, but I once again reminded myself that this was NOT the world I wanted our son to grow up in, and that as much as we needed Harry here with us, he was needed even more at the forefront of war. It was after all, him, and him alone, that would ultimately defeat Voldemort and end this war. It was several days before I received word from England. Harry and The Clan had met some resistance and were holed up in southern France regrouping and plotting their next attack. Apparently they had received some intelligence about a spy network and were currently trying to gain a way in.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks became months, and no one had heard from Harry. Hermione stopped in as often as she could to check on Scorpius and myself, to make sure we were provided for, and were not in need of anything, and to bring word when she had it, which unfortunately, was few and far between.

Scorpius had just turned six months old when word came. It was the worst sort of word imaginable. Hermione fell through the floo in a fit of tears. She was in a rage and beyond consolable. I don't doubt she cried for hours before I got a coherent word out of her.

"Ron-" was all she said before passing out.

My heart froze in horror. Had she discovered that he was in fact, the spy? Had something happened to Harry? Was Ron to blame for Harrys disappearance? So many questions swirled through my head, and yet I simply picked Hermione up and placed her in bed. She slept all that afternoon and most of the night, and I let her, for fear that what she had to say was not anything I wanted to hear.

"Ron's dead," she said in a voice too cold for the woman I knew.

"Oh, 'Mione," I breathed. Even though we had suspected him, his loss would not be made any easier. "How?"

"Ginny."

"I'm not sure I follow—"

"Ginny. She killed Ron. He found out what she was doing, and he confronted her about it. He tried to help her…to save her…and she," Hermione's breath hitched, "she killed him!" she finally sobbed.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Oh Draco! We had it all wrong! I never imagined…how could she? Ginny is Red! She's the one who has been feeding Voldemort information all this time! Ron figured it out by something she said, and he confronted her on it. She said she had been talking to Tom for years. She called him Tom! Said that he had shown her the way to fame and fortune, and that he was the light! She became his WHORE," she spat, "and she gave him everything. Her friends, her fucking family, her body…everything. And for what? He will kill her just as quickly once he has no use for her. He will use her body up and dispose of her like the garbage she is, and there will be no one to save her then. I hope he kills her slowly. I hope I get to watch."

"Hermione," I started, but what was there to say? Ginny had committed the ultimate crime. She had betrayed her family and her friends; had murdered her own brother when he tried to protect her. There was no greater dishonor. I tried again. "How…who found Ron?"

"Oh Draco!" she breathed. "Oh Draco, I'm so sorry! Oh God! Scorp! Oh," Hermione started to panic.

"Hermione! Breathe! From the beginning."

Hermione took several long breaths and started again.

"Ron went to Ginny's flat to confront her. He'd been gone for an hour when his monitoring charm went off signaling distress, so Harry and Blaise went after him using his tracking spell. By the time they got to him, it was too late, and Ginny had fled. They tried all the spells they knew but he…he bled out before they could get him to help. Blaise stayed behind and gathered his memories and Harry…he took off after the dirty little wench. That's been hours ago now. We haven't seen or heard from his since, and his monitoring and tracking spells have been deactivated. We don't know if he's being held against his will, or is wherever he went willingly. I'm so sorry Draco. I wish it was better news."

I sat in silence for quite some time trying to process it all. I was only roused by the sounds of Scorpius crying to be fed.

"Excuse me," I said and swiftly left the room.

Once Scorpius was fed and changed, I placed him in his play pen and went back to Hermione.

"I've been a terrible host, 'Mione. Would you like some tea?" I asked.

"No," she shook her head.

"I…shouldn't keep you. I'm sure you have…do the rest of the Weasleys know?" I asked.

"No, I suppose not."

"I could…go with you…if you wanted. For support? I know they don't particularly like me but…you re my friend Mione…and Ron…well…I cared about the git, ya know?"

"I don't want to be a bother."

"Not at all. It will give me something to do. Keep me distracted. I'll just grab a few things, if that's alright?"

Hermione just nodded, and somewhere, something inside of her finally let go. My heart bled for her. No one deserved this heart ache, but especially not Hermione.

* * *

The loss of Ron was a hard one to swallow, but eventually he became just one more causality in this thing called war. The Weasleys struck Ginny from their family tree, publicly denounced her, and joined the fight tenfold, each promising a slow and painful death to the traitor should they find her. The Order regrouped and redoubled their efforts, and Hermione moved in with Scorpius and myself. We helped as much as we could from the sidelines, gathering intel and plotting attacks. Scorpius was now just over a year old, and we had had no further word from Harry since the day he disappeared. I still held on to the hope that he was somewhere in hiding, unable to come back to us, but as Scorpius turned two, my hope started to fade.

Then one day word came, but it wasn't the words I wanted to hear. I had heard them all before, and had forced myself to realize they weren't true, but now, I had no reason to believe that these words were untrue.

"Harry's dead."

He couldn't even look at me.

"No," I said. It wasn't true. Not really. He was just hiding. He had caught on something really good, or he had that muggle thing…amnesia…or…something.

"We found his campsite. There was blood everywhere. His glasses and wand were there. He had a picture of you and Scorp. You need to think about your son, Draco."

"Don't tell me what to do Blaise!" I yelled, and then I broke down.

"Draco, you're my best mate. **I** _chose_ to be the one to come and tell you. So you would have a friend, and not some stranger. I wanted to be here for you. Harry wouldn't just abandon you, war or not, and he sure as hell wouldn't abandon his son. He loved you both very much. Plus que ma propre vie?"

"Oui," I sobbed.

It was over. My hope was shattered, and my family torn to shreds. It had been 967 days since I had seen or heard from my love. Harry had missed 2 years of his sons' life. I was now faced with the cold reality that he was never coming home.

I spent the rest of that day locked away in my room mourning the loss of my heart. I couldn't face our son, selfish as it was, and so Hermione took him for the day, though she too was in mourning. The next day I took Scorpius to a park, and spent the entire day with him, playing; visiting the zoo; eating pizza and ice cream. I gave him a bath, and told him a story of the The Boy Who Lived, tucked him in, and kissed him goodnight. I found Hermione in the living room.

"Things are bad, aren't they?" I asked.

"They are," she agreed.

"Hermione…"

"I know."

"Am I a bad parent? For leaving him?" I asked with tears in my eyes.

"No," she said softly. "You are the best parent for leaving to protect him. Harry…Harry died so that you and Scorpius would live. No one will fault you for going to make sure Scorp still has that chance. The Resistance is finished. The Clan is barely hanging on. We are lost. We need a new leader. Harry taught you everything. It's time. I will stay here. Protect Scorpius with my life. I swear it."

"If I die…"

"Please don't," Hermione said, pain in her voice. "I can't lose anyone else. I'm selfish. You're all I have left. I need you."

"I think we both need each other, 'Mione…"

And with those parting words, the closest I would ever be to telling another living being that I loved them too, I left to face my fate, a prayer on my lips that my son would not be made an orphan like so many before him...


End file.
